We aren't messing with you!
by SapphireBlueLuvsU
Summary: When John has a mysterious visitor checking in, he is helplessly confused and down right annoyed. What the heck is happening?
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock was sitting lithely in his arm chair across from John, just staring at his companion, his mind reeling dizzyingly with thoughts of the past few days. He knew that John was angry at him. He knew it all too well. What he didn't know, however, was that John actually did want to talk about what had happened. Things like why Sherlock had done it, where he had done it, and how on earth did he not think to tell John, his _best friend_, about it.

"You know," John rasped painfully, shifting in his battered armchair. "You could have told me."

"So we're talking now?" Sherlock's whisper was equally agonizing as he ran a hand through his always tousled hair.

John glared at his friend, even though he knew that it wouldn't affect the detective whatsoever. _It's not fair_, he thought bitterly. He knew he would feel uncomfortable under Sherlock's cool, unwavering gaze in itself. No need for Sherlock to glare back.

Using one of his friend's favorite comebacks, he replied, "Obviously."

Sherlock sniffed disdainfully as he turned his head to the side, slightly miffed that John had stolen his prized saying. "I don't see why. Days of silence…."

John nodded grimly, refusing to fall into his friend's trap. "You deserved every minute of it. You still do."

"Feels nice to be loved."

The doctor rolled his sky blue eyes then turned to look at the neon yellow, slightly dripping smiley face on the wall, eyeing the holes and punctures from the time Sherlock had shot bullets through the wall. "Don't ignore what I said. I know you well enough by now."

The boffin shrugged carelessly, not meeting John's now pointed look that was staring him down. "I did what I had to."

"You could have told me." John repeated once more, his gaze intensifying.

Now it was Sherlock's turn to glance at the the ceiling. "I don't have to tell you _everything_, do I?" He had a pained expression on his features. _No_, _not pained_ John realized. _It looks more like Sherlock doesn't want to be bothered with all this._

"You decide to do something stupid and inhumane and you think that it's perfectly fine _not_ to tell me?!" John was extremely vexed now and he had every right to be. Sherlock was being superbly unreasonable. "Sometimes I wonder if there's any human in that vast Mind Palace of yours." he muttered, getting up to leave.

"What did you say?" Sherlock sat forward in his chair, his usually smooth voice rough and conveying an aura of challenge.

"I said," John spoke again, louder this time, as he imitated Sherlock's posture. "Sometimes I wonder if there's any human in that vast Mind Palace of yours. Because right now, there doesn't seem to be any. Unless it would like to make its appearance, because it's bloody overdue!"

John grabbed his coat, put it on, and stomped angrily down the stairs, his throat burning with the effort of talking. As he reached the door and placed his hand on it's cool, bronze handle, he paused, breathing heavily as his heart palpitated fiercely. Should he apologize for what he had said? _No_, he thought firmly. _Sherlock deserved every word of it!_ Turning the knob forcefully, John hurried out onto the sidewalk slamming the door noisily behind him.

Sherlock sighed, tousling his hair in frustration, at precisely the moment that Mrs. Hudson decided to walk into the living room and deliver some fresh tea and biscuits. The aroma of freshly brewed tea would usually be enough to shake the detective from his stupor but, today, his sour mood couldn't be remedied.

"Would you like some tea, dear?" she asked Sherlock, her voice gentle. "You should really rest yourself." Pausing, the landlady looked around the room, confused as to John's sudden disappearance. "Where is John?"

Sherlock muttered something about the doctor taking a walk, standing up to stretch as he did , and stormed purposely into the bathroom, slamming the door, just as John had, behind him.

Slightly disgruntled, Mrs. hudson descended to her flat, taking the tea and biscuits with her.

_Bzz! _

John rolled his eyes. His phone had been buzzing continuously for the past four days already, all of the texts being from Sherlock. _I'm sorry, John! Please come back! We have to talk! You're right! It was insufferable!_ Occasionally, Sherlock would actually call John instead of texting him which infuriated him further. If John didn't bother replying to his _texts, _what made the detective think that he would want to _speak _ to him?

_Bzz!Bzz!Bzz! _Sherlock was calling again. _Bzz!Bzz!Bz-! _

John perked up at this sudden interruption. Had the boffin lost hope and hung up? Or had someone else hung up the phone for him? Concerned, the doctor decided to call back, _Just to see what's up, _ he reassured himself. _I'm still angry with him… The idiot._

The phone only rang twice before someone picked up.

"Sherlock?" John blurted, worry patent in his tone.

"Not exactly," the recipient on the line replied. John could _hear_ the smirk that was currently taking up the mystery man's face. "My little brother is presently in his bedroom taking a much needed snooze. He seemed quite anxious to hear from you though. Almost as if he wanted to apologize for something…"

"Mycroft," the healer sighed tiredly. "What do you want?"

"Come to Baker Street, Dr. Watson. Someone's waiting for you."

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

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**A.N.** _Hiya! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! I always take suggestions for new stories so if you have any feel free to let me know. Also, I'm always looking for constructive crtitism on my writing so if you happen to find an area I'm lacking or could improve, hit me with some tips and suggestions on how I can be a better writer. Thanks so much!_

_ -Blue_


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as John walked through the door, he barely had time to make it up the stairs before he was thrown into his armchair, tied up and gagged by a floating piece of red fabric. He let his head fall back, closing his eyes as he groaned, emotion surging through him.

_Another one of Sherlock's annoying tricks!_

"Er's 'Ycrot?" is what came out of his muzzled mouth. He meant to ask where Mycroft was, but…

Suddenly, the doctor felt a slight alteration in his surroundings and, opening his eyes, he realised that a man was standing in front of him, casting a shadow over him. The mystery person was clad in strange clothing, kind of like something a superhero would wear, though he looked so familiar. _Actually_, John realized. _He looks almost exactly like Sherlock._

John began struggling and yelling through the cloth between his teeth at the man who he thought was his flatmate. Sherlock immediately looked startled, as if just then realizing what he had done.

"That's enough," he muttered, touching the fabric in John's mouth. Like magic, it slithered away from the doctor and flew onto Sherlock's shoulders. A cloak.

"What." John inhaled forcefully. "The hell. Is that?"

Sherlock smiled easily. "What, this?" he asked, glancing behind him. "Cloak of Levitation. I apologize for sending it after you like that. I know this all might come as a surprise to you."

John squinted at his flatmate in suspicion. Something was off about this so called "Sherlock".

"A surprise? This isn't some game, Sherlock. You scared me half to death and you want me to just accept some apology? After everything you've done in the past few weeks, I…" John ran a frustrated hand through his blonde hair. "You are pretty out there, Sherlock, but this is beyond 'out there'. Have you been doing drugs again?" he hissed, his face inches away from his friend's.

Sherlock's eyes widened, his hands coming up in a defenseless position as he took a few steps away from the seated figure in front of him. "No, you don't understand." A grin began forming on his lips. "I'm not Sherlock."

"You what?" John seethed. "Don't play with me, you blithering idiot. I am not some-"

"I'm not!" Sherlock insisted. "My name is Stephen Strange and I've come to help Sherlock. He's my cousin."

"You don't have a bloody cousin!" John cried out throwing his hands in the air. "And 'Strange' sure explains all this. Nice touch."

"I don't know how else to convince you." the taller man's smile began to fade. "I'm not even British. I live in New York." He hesitated. "Well, sort of."

John stopped raging. This man didn't have an accent. That's what was so off about him. His face hardened. "Anyone can fake an accent."

"That's true…" the cloaked figure replied, pondering. Giving up, he mumbled. "You can believe what you want, but when Sherlock wakes up, he'll tell you."

"Sherlock's home then?" John asked, his gaze snapping to the hopeless man's face.

"Either think I'm him or not. Make up your mind."

"It's all true, John." a weak, very British voice sounded from the doorway. There stood a frail and shivering detective with wet hair, a dull, grey blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

"Sherlock," John and Strange chorused, concern in both of their voices. They turned to glare at each other.

Sherlock sighed and sat, exhausted, on the sofa. "It's true." he repeated, putting his head in his hands. "This is my cousin, Dr. Stephen Strange. Stephen, this is Dr. John Watson."

"How come you never told me about this?" the blonde haired doctor demanded, his anger subsiding at the sight of his companion weak and obviously in some sort of pain.

The boffin sighed and looked up into John's light blue eyes, studying them. "You never asked."

John knew he could become cross once more at Sherlock's annoying antics, but he didn't have it in him. He was tired from a long day at work and he hated being upset at his flatmate. He also wasn't very good at it.

"How then?" John wondered aloud, glancing between the two men in front of him. "How do you both look so alike?"

The boffin and the stranger exchanged a small grin.

"Well," Strange began, falling back to sit cross legged in midair. "My mother has a twin brother. This twin brother, coincidentally, is Sherlock's father."

"And my mother has a twin brother," Sherlock's eyes lit up mischievously. "Coincidentally, that twin brother is _Stephen's_ father."

John's head spun as he tried to process what they were saying. "So, two couples had twins, a boy and a girl per pair, and those twins married each other resulting in almost identical children."

"Exactly." The stranger and the boffin grinned wider.

"But, Mycroft…" John was puzzled. "Sherlock you aren't the oldest in your family."

The detective shrugged. "So? Mycroft just got the worst of the gene pool. Better yet, he's probably adopted. If you want I can calculate the odds of us being how we are."

"No, no. I'm fine, thanks." John waved his hands in protest. "In terms of age, how far apart are you?"

Strange answered, "I'm two years older which makes me five years younger than Mycroft."

John stood up and began pacing, pondering the information he was being fed. "This is insane. Sherlock is a super genius and has a twin cousin who's a…" He inspected Stephen for a moment. "Super Wizard."

The sorcerer rolled his eyes. "As if I don't get _that _every day."

The room grew silent and the three men stared awkwardly at each other for a long while.

"So," Sherlock addressed his cousin, walking up to him and teasing his moving cloak. "What brings you here?"

"As if you don't already know." John snorted, shaking his head.

"Actually," the detective contradicted. "Stephen is one of the only people I can't get anything from. It must be because of his… Choice of occupation. What he did totally defies every ounce of his personality. There was a one percent chance that he would end up like this. It's baffling."

The doctor crossed his arms. "End up like how? What are you talking about?"

"Well," Stephen began, fingers playing with each other. "I'm a Sorcerer."

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

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_Hi there! I've been kinda busy lately but I've managed to scrape this chapter together. I honestly thought I had abandoned it but my muse is a funny creature. I hope you enjoy and feel free to review to let me know how I can improve! Thanks for reading!_

_ -Blue_


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